Ah, If I Could Only Grow Mutton Chops

Well, it's just over one week to Christmas, and the snow is gone. As someone who has a love/hate relationship with snow, I just don't know how to feel about this. Normally, any lack of snow is a good thing in my book, but I'm a traditionalist, and thanks to a lifetime of Michigan weather (not to mention an affinity for Bing Crosby), I've come to expect snow on two days of the year - Christmas and it's eve.

Most of the time, I see snow, along with most of winter, as a nuisance. I was most prepared to abandon my current location at one point, even eyeballing Arizona. Somehow, though, I always remain here in a place that's known for things like skiing. Dude, strapping two pieces of thin wood to your feet and then seeing how fast you can go down a mountain. No thankee, sai.

As far as I'm concerned, winter and snow serve one purpose - look pretty. Snow is lovely so long as it can be used as an excuse for sitting inside on a Sunday afternoon, sipping cocoa and watching movies. Once you expect me to actually venture out into it, then we have an issue. I don't like being cold even a little bit, and the only detrimental effect of not maintaining my butterball figure is that I no longer have the protective layers of fatty tissue to harden me against the cruel winters. (Seriously, I used to walk to class in an unbuttoned jacket when it was around zero degree Fahrenheit, arrive to class sweating, and still convince myself that I wasn't that out of shape. Ah, denial is a powerful thing.)

As we edge closer to Christmas, though, I'm a little distraught at the lack of snowy goodness in my yard. Over on this side of the state (towards the thumb), it was raining yesterday. As a result, our yard is officially snow free today. It's sunny outside, so I don't see that changing today anyway.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not willing another blizzard like last year into existence (although if I could, I would will it to appear in Texas, just because it's funny reading about wide spread chaos being caused over a half inch of snow). I just want enough to cover the ground so I can continue towards my goal of the perfect picturesque Christmas scene. Fireplace burning. Hot coffee spiked with egg nog. My loving family surrounding me, children excitedly asking me if it's time to open their gifts in their adorable British accents.

What? I can't be the only person whose Christmas ideal has been shaped from years of A Christmas Carol.